


Something for Everyone

by TigerShinigami



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Arson, Christmas, Christmas Vandalism, Gavle Goat, Gen, Humor, Inspired by Real Events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27904237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerShinigami/pseuds/TigerShinigami
Summary: A heartwarming tale involving Donna, The Doctor, a large straw goat, and a little Christmas vandalism.Based on historic events.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor & Donna Noble
Kudos: 17





	Something for Everyone

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to my friend Hermione for helping beta-read this for me. And a very Merry Christmas to anyone out there reading this!

“This doesn’t look like Australia to me,” Donna said. “Do you need help finding it on the map?”

The night was brisk. They walked down a narrow cobblestone road that was lit by wrought-iron lamps attached to the quaint homes that flanked either side. The homes were modest, one-story abodes that were painted in vibrant colors and accented with white trim. 

They were alone as they walked, save for the odd person across the way. A chilly breeze swept upon them which caused Donna to shiver. The Doctor removed his large brown coat and draped it over her shoulders. He stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets as he casually walked, unbothered by the cold. 

“Oh, come on,” he said with enthusiasm, ignorant of her snippy tone. “Sometimes the best trips are the ones you never planned on. Take my visit to Andromeda Four- always thought it was a blip of a planet, good for a gas stop and nothing else- only to find out, they have some of the best apple pie in the universe! You never can tell with some places...”

“I don’t see any pie here,” she bit out. “I don’t suppose you could’ve ‘discovered’ somewhere warmer? Where are we, anyway?” 

“Well…” The Doctor angled his head around and sniffed the air. “Judging from the looks of it, I’d say… Sweden, late nineteen seventies?”

Donna looked again at the nearby homes. They looked nice enough, if a bit small. But there was something different in the way they were decorated. Greenery was draped on the railings, and wreaths on the doors, and holly accented with red berries hung from the posts-

“Oh _no,”_ she uttered in disdain. 

"Not only that…"

“Don’t tell me it’s _Christmas,_ ” she spat.

"Yeah! Looks like it’s Christmas,” he said with a boyish and cheerful grin. “Or December, anyway.”

She sighed. It was a full, powerful sigh that made her entire body sag. “I hate Christmas.”

“Now, don’t be like that… That’s no attitude to have, is it? What’ve you got against it, anyway?” he said. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Never liked it, is all. Never understood what everyone loved about it. I mean, why would I want to hear the same twelve songs, over and over again, for a full month and a half? And the bells- What dim-witted bloke thought it’d be a good idea to put little _bells_ on everything? Bells on little santa hats, bells on Christmas shirts, bells on _Christmas socks._ ” The words were bitter and disgusting as she said them. She shuddered, not from the cold, but from memories of terrible office Christmas parties and gatherings with friends. Especially ones with Nerice. “They all make that jingle-jingle-jingle when someone so much as _breathes!_ I hate it. All of it.”

The Doctor remained unperturbed by her frustration. “Surely there’s more to it than that. Christmas is about- it’s about all sorts of things, really, not just the cheap merchandise. What about family, giving, all that?”

“They usually give me another argument around the table. Especially after Dad died. Then there’s my cousin, Lisa. Loves to rub it in how she’s got this husband and her big, fancy house and her five kids. Going to _advanced classes_ because they’re so much smarter than everyone else.”

“Well,” he started thoughtfully. “Surely there’s something about Christmas you’d like- you just haven’t found it yet.”

It was far too positive a reply, and she scoffed. “Fat chance of that. And I could go for some apple pie, right about now.”

They continued to walk further into town. The hour was late, and the town was soundly asleep. Only the odd car drove by, but it was rare, and they seemed to have the town almost entirely to themselves. As they walked, the cobblestone neighborhood from before transitioned into a modern town of concrete roads and taller buildings. Trees lined the way with glowing strings of Christmas lights which shone brightly amidst the darkness. Some buildings were modern- at least, for the year- but slightly older ones were mixed in as well. 

It wasn’t long before they entered a large town square that was divided by a forked road. There, in the center of the square and brilliantly illuminated with spotlights, was a towering straw figure adorned with wide red ribbons. It had four trunk-like legs and a long neck, the head smaller with a short beard of straw, and two curved straw horns that extended from its head back to its tail in sweeping arches. 

“Would you look at that!” The Doctor exclaimed. “We’re in Gavle! Home of the Gavle Goat. Big fella, isn’t he? He’s what- forty, fifty feet high?”

She tilted her head, unimpressed. “I suppose it _does_ look like a goat.”

“Annual tradition of Gavle- has its roots in Scandinavian folklore. The Yule Goat, technically speaking. Some say it looks over Christmas preparations each year, makes sure everything’s just so. Bit different from the olden days,” he noted, suddenly distracted. “Especially with the costumes.”

“Uh huh,” Donna muttered, having not heard a word of it. 

They made their way to the goat and the short wooden fence that encircled it on the green. She had to crane her head to look up at it given its size and height. Something teased her memory, the thought vaguely obscured like trying to peer through frosted glass. Something related to a bookie, she recalled. And dates- but not the romantic kind.

Recognition flashed across her face and she gasped loudly. Her expression was shocked and excited all at once, her eyes lit up with newfound purpose. 

Every year, the straw goat was built in Gavle to celebrate Christmas. And every year, it burned to the ground.

It started innocently enough with an idea in 1966 for a local Yule Goat. It served as a festive local attraction for several weeks that the townsfolk enjoyed. But on New Year’s Eve night, an unknown vandal set it on fire. The goat burned to the ground. 

Then, two years later, it was burned once more.

The next year, it survived for a total of six hours before it was set alight by drunken teenagers. 

By then, the group responsible for building the goat had grown tired of seeing their work turn to kindle, and elected not to build it anymore. Instead, a miniature goat was built by the Natural Science Club. That goat was smashed to pieces. 

It was a setback for the club, to be sure. But they hardened their resolve. They would prevail, they thought, in the name of their Scandinavian heritage and the spirit of Christmas. They built the next year’s goat with confidence, and hope.

The goat collapsed due to sabotage.

Year after year the goat was built and then burned. It was clear stronger measures would be needed to protect their beloved goat. A strategy was devised, and the goat was doused heavily in flame-retardant. 

The goat burned. 

A fence was built around it to keep vandals at bay.

The goat burned. 

They sprayed water over it, once, letting it freeze into a thick layer of ice to guard against any flames.

The goat burned. 

To say it burned every year, however, would be wrong. Some years, it was hit by a car. Or smashed to pieces. Or stolen.

Eventually, they decided that simply having one goat wasn’t enough, and they built a small backup goat preemptively that could be used once the large one fell. That, too, was usually burned. 

They added a live video feed so the goat could be viewed at any time around the world. It was later hacked and taken offline while vandals set the goat ablaze. 

Another year, vandals dressed as Santa Claus and gingerbread men attacked the goat with flaming arrows. The Swedish television program _Most Wanted_ followed the search for the arsonists responsible, but to no avail. 

Despite the efforts to protect it, the goat was burned, kicked, smashed, or destroyed in some form or fashion a total of thirty-one times between its 1966 inauguration and 2008. By then, the goat had garnered minor celebrity status across Europe and other parts of the world. The Gavle goat was the Christmas tradition that was destined for destruction. 

Donna didn’t know all the details of the Goat’s long and turbulent history. She only knew that it burned, that it was _destined_ to burn, and that it stood a mere ten feet away. 

It was a cold night, she thought. And straw was very, very, flammable. 

She turned towards the Doctor in a smooth motion, spinning on her heel. “You know… I think I remember hearing something about this goat. The big one, right there. Made of straw.” She raised a hand and jabbed her thumb towards the straw structure. 

“He’s got a reputation, yeah…”

She smiled. 

The Doctor watched her very closely, arching a brow in suspicion. “Hold on...” he started. “You’re not thinking about-”

“You know… It’s funny. It happens every year- that makes it a tradition, isn’t that right?” 

“Well...” he started, then stopped abruptly as he struggled to find the words. He paused, looking up at the straw goat and its red decorative ribbons. “But that’s- that’s vandalism! Arson, technically.” He paused. “Think of all the time that goes into making that, all the work,” he thought aloud.

He paused once more, distracted in thought. “Although...” He continued to stare at the goat, transfixed and hypnotized. Lured by the tempting thought of vandalism with the benefit of a clean conscience. His voice was quiet, low. “All that straw… All that wood… ”

He sucked in a sudden breath as the spell was broken. “No! No. We're not doing it.”

“Oh, come _on_. Haven’t you ever done something like this? A bit of vandalism, here and there - carving your name on a desk, or a wall-”

“Well- _Yes_ , but- We’re not talking about carving your initials into a tree- you’re- you’re talking about burning down something someone else has created! It’s a work of art, part of their cultural heritage.” He spoke adamantly and raised an arm to gesture towards the goat. 

They were alone in the square, then, with no one but each other and the large straw goat for company. Donna took a couple of steps backward, which brought her closer to the fence and goat. “It’s a _goat._ A _goat._ Made of _straw_ ,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

She stuck a hand into one of the pockets of The Doctor's coat which she still wore. She frowned, digging around for a moment as the pocket was surprisingly large, and retrieved a vintage lighter. Donna stared in awe and with renewed focus. “Oh, tell me this isn’t _fate!_ ”

“I got that from Churchill,” he noted absently. “No- Donna, put that down. We’re not burning anything.” 

She fiddled with the lighter for a moment before flipping it open to reveal a small flame. “Says you!”

“Donna, put the lighter down,” he ordered, this time sterner than before. He held out his upturned hand towards her. 

”Oh, come _on,”_ she said with exaggerated emphasis. The flame on the lighter flickered slightly in the winter breeze. 

“A lot of people work very hard on building it, every year,” The Doctor said. 

“And it _burns_ every year,” Donna shot back. “They know what they’re getting into!” 

“Donna,” he warned again, sternly. He looked at her like one would a child for breaking the rules. “Put it down.”

"Come on. Just a little. Just a _little bit_ of fire. That's all."

"No," he said.

"That's all I ask. Just- _Some_ fire."

The Doctor shot her an expectant look.

She looked between the Doctor and the lighter, then behind her at the goat. 

Finally, her shoulders sagged. 

She sighed. 

“Oh... Alright,” she said, resigned. She cast a last wistful look at the goat, and found it was such a shame to miss out on the local tradition. As unofficial as it was.

Just as she went to pass him the lighter, a small figure darted between them and yanked it out of her hand. They rushed towards the goat, making quick work of the wooden fence, and ran with purpose towards the goat’s four large legs. He dragged the lighter along the base of each leg which caused the fire to catch instantly in the dry air. A slight breeze fanned the flames even further. He laughed. 

Donna could only stare, slack-jawed. The Doctor had moved forward a few steps and tried to shout. But it was already too late, and the bright orange flames spread quickly around the goat. 

Then, just as quickly as he came, the teenager ran off into the darkness. Giggling.

The Doctor ushered Donna back to a safer distance, but the size of the goat made the sight easily seen from where they stood. The straw had caught alight similar to kindling in a fireplace, and already the upper areas and neck of the goat were ablaze. The fire burned painfully bright against the darkness of the square. 

They couldn’t look away. 

“That went up fast,” The Doctor muttered, faintly impressed and as transfixed as she was on the flames. 

“It _is_ made of straw,” she said. “It’s beautiful.” She smiled at the sight, watching the fire lap greedily against the straw structure. 

In the center of the raging inferno, a large section of straw, wood, and melted ribbon broke away and dropped to the ground. 

“Yeah…” He said distractedly, still reluctant to condone vandalism- but found the sight was indeed spectacular, and a better show than he expected. 

“I think I like this Christmas tradition,” she said. "It’s better than apple pie."

As the straw continued to burn, it revealed the large-beamed wooden skeleton hidden underneath. It looked like a stick-figure creature, then, engulfed by a swirl of yellow and orange flame. There was a loud ‘crack!’ as one of the beams broke roughly in half and fell to the ground.

The Doctor opened his mouth as if to speak but struggled to find the words. It was an unusual situation, even for him. “Well…” He started, “It's true what they say, I suppose.”

Sirens sounded as the local fire crew rushed to the scene, shouting and yelling and running to try and extinguish the blaze.

“And what’s that?” Donna asked. 

“That there’s a Christmas tradition out there for everyone,” he admitted. “Merry Christmas, Donna.” He smiled. 

She smiled warmly in return. “Merry Christmas.”

“You there!” A policeman had started to run towards them, looking rather angry in the flickering firelight.

“Right- time to go!” The Doctor said in a rush. They turned and ran away into the darkness of the night, leaving the festive pyre burning in their wake. 


End file.
